View Full Version : Prompted Poetry

Il Penseroso
01-03-2007, 05:12 PM
Here's a thread to develop writing skills for those of us who may sometimes lack a constructive idea to write on. I'll start with a topic, and the follower will write a poem with that theme, but without restriction to any organized form, and post another topic.

So, to start: Self-punishment for a transgression (since I'm reading "Crime and Punishment")

01-03-2007, 08:04 PM
To manage a life
Full of chaos
Is like rain in the morning
When no one has stirred
From their beds of sweet

But he rains on them anyway
Because it's his job
In these days of
Fallen responsibilites
Back from the grave.

Um... that was pretty terrible. I apologize. And it's wayyy out there. I like this game though, maybe I'll get better.

Topic: Windows

01-04-2007, 11:30 PM
Because I want to keep playing this game...

Into windows
Empty eyes pursue
Creamy visions
To fill up the cracks.

There is no remorse
From the sand-castle panes
That exist only
For frustration.

Persistance, stubbornness?
Create the equality.
You must forgive them,
They've nothing else.

Il Penseroso
01-04-2007, 11:42 PM
Sorry, I'll contribute, I've just been a bit busy the last couple days with work and such. Would you like to post the next topic?

01-04-2007, 11:55 PM
Oh it's fine. Don't apologize! I've just been bored.

All right... um topic - Indifference.

Il Penseroso
01-05-2007, 12:11 AM
A chameleon of outward pretenses
the privateer salesman
bids himself,
value placed in market hands.

Charmed with indecision,
place a matter of the rolling wheel
the Indifferent struts
his self-denial.

Sorry, that was pretty crummy, but this is all about practice right?

Next: envisioning an alien sun and its effect.

01-05-2007, 10:41 AM
Alien Suns

The twin suns in the heavens were palest green,
The atmosphere heavy with dampness and dew.
The foliage covered the surface in a leafy screen—
It did not support life—life seemed to spring forth renewed!
Beneath the green orbs in the shades of the jungles,
Life of all kinds erupted like a volcano.
It was as though evolution had been seriously bungled—
Species formed, lived, and died as fast as they could grow.
Intelligent life, when it came, the crowning victory—
Came not from the animal life, but through the great plants.
Top of the food chain, carnivorous, magnificent in their glory,
They become lords of the planet, and conquered the entire mass.
Out there under twin emerald eyes is a world where plants rule:
But animal life has also adapted to a world so cruel…


Um. King Arthur?

01-05-2007, 02:10 PM
The Dark Crown

Shining swords disappear into the lake
Pools of self doubt flow to one black body
Dubh Linn, the dark pool of ancient knowledge
In which the king swims, to drown in self doubt
So shining a countenance, plagued by shame
Marred by grief, over deaths for his glory
Men who died, so his legend might live on
He sees crusted blood in tales of his deeds
Echoes of their cries, whispered to the bards
Who sing naught of the shame, not of the lie
Betrayal of comrades, willing or not
Is lore of the heart, and privy to none
For shining armor saves only the skin
Legends live on, in the light of the sword
Mere shadows must wait till the owls cry

ummm... a lost chess game?

Il Penseroso
01-05-2007, 04:33 PM
before pieces touch the skin,
the chessboard a monument field
pillaged by the mind.
Eyes stare across the stage
coupled causations behind each screen,
dormant thoughts of slaughtered kings
the suddle strategies in play by pawns.

A slip and shallow prescience
ignite the string that tugs
the trail to final surrender,
dominoes collapse in line.

Next: a growing tower of garbage and lost collectibles.

01-05-2007, 05:37 PM
Lost precautions
And limitable dreams
Lay wasted
But living
In seas of green marsh.

Someone's mother is
Waving for attention
In a corner - view window

Child's play
And horses hooves
Weep stagnantly,
Siphoning sunlight.

Next: Theatre

01-06-2007, 10:48 AM
Opening Night

The curtain rises, now is the grand beginning!
An actor enters from the wings, stage right.
On this performance he’s bet all his winnings—
He clears his throat, and peers into the lights.
There is an audience that waits with bated breath,
To hear the sound of his noble, rich voice.
Through his mind the music plays each treble cleft,
As he pauses, (for effect), and strikes the pose of his choice.
The audience leans forward in their eager anticipation,
While he clears his throat once more time.
Why is it they, not him, covered in perspiration—
And why the ears so attuned to hear his impassioned sigh?
His voice rings loud with a cry, and hearts fill with joy:
And the Doctor says, “Mr. and Mrs. Smith, your baby boy!”



01-06-2007, 04:42 PM
simple people, flirting with the stage
so in love with common laughter
that they fear the tears of rage
serious drama scares them
they shy from what not smiles
this dance of childrens chuckles
is what makes degredation worthwhile

perhaps, ice?

01-07-2007, 01:04 AM
You gave me something to
Cool my sweet
Malice of an
Imported Drink.

I smiled, you nod
Your nod of
perfect society´s
sick child.

Somehow you siphon the cold
From habitation
And it cools your veins --
You unmelted ice sculpture, you.

You win. And you know it,
For once and forever
Forgive and forget?
Remember, remember,
To dance and not drip.

The only stanza I like is the last one. lol.

Okay next ... performing for attention

Il Penseroso
01-09-2007, 05:47 PM
Rabid eyes
for the glittering gaze,
waves in the crowd
the tremor of applause,

solid-light framed
single on the stage,
the audience confined
separate from the player.

An excursion to the zoo.

Il Penseroso
01-11-2007, 05:46 AM
Don't overengage the orangatang
the monkey shelled in fur,
he'll spit and he'll spar
he's a furious little ape
shed no tears for his escape.

Don't straddle the tortoise
let the sidekick warm his shelter
cover not the turtle
in fluff to suit yourself.

Don't nest with the birds
pry their preekness with a penchant,
scandalize bird society
with double lenses latent,
peak and prod their home.

Let animal life linger
unharmed and unhinged
not in cage like a cadaver,
let them be free to roam.

The illusary gift of knowing what the hell you are talking about.

01-11-2007, 10:24 AM
Truth In Reporting

May I have your undivided attention, please?
Sit up straight now and look this way.
Now Johnny, I’m not out that window floating on the breeze,
And we’re trying hard to learn a lesson today.
Open your books to chapter twenty-four,
Did you all do the required reading I asked of you?
Johnny! Would you pay attention! Bored?
Well then the first report, young man, is yours to do!
Johnny fumbles with his papers standing at the front of class.
His voice is dry, he can hardly whisper his words—
(How did he get himself into this awful mess?)
But he finally manages to croak out something though it hurts:
My report today is on chapter twenty-four—
Or rather it would have been, if the author weren’t such a bore…


Time running out for trapped people

01-11-2007, 11:15 AM
alrighty, here it goes, it's about time, and being trapped, if not in the common way.

The daughter

Inside the tunnels of the mind,
The answer must be hidden.
There are signs all around,
And the eyes see coming,
Endless waves of panicking effort.

Looking outside, the people walk by.
They notice not the burning eyes
Penetrating their tunnelled brains,
Looking for a way, a way out,
Before the memory is lost forever.

From within strikes the clock at nine
Soon the damage will be done
Inevitable loss comes with years
As the mind slowly fades and forgets
It can no longer remember who
The young lady is that asks:
“Don’t you remember me?”

Next we have:
The nature of Turnips in a field of silvery dust.

01-14-2007, 11:39 AM
Turnips and Silvery Dust

The Martians’ robots pluck the turnips as the silvery dust falls down,
And they load their succulent jewels into hoppers by the hour!
They grow these monstrous veggies here, none weigh less than twenty pound—
But they must be harvested quickly before the silver turns them sour.
The robots sing a song of electronic speech as they dig each turnip up,
Being careful not to bruise the tender globes; that would never be allowed!
They load them swiftly into the hoppers, being careful with the crop—
For Aimus, King of Martians, turnips for supper tonight has vowed!
When the final tiny turnip has been extracted from the silvery soil,
The hoppers are washed out with water lest there be a bruised one in the bunch.
It would only take one rotten turnip, to make the whole lot spoil—
But the water clears away the enemy, the wicked silvery dust.
So remember, lads, to plant your turnips, they grow well in silvery soil—
But harvest them with care because that same dust will make them spoil!



A Knight meets a Dragon....

01-14-2007, 04:23 PM
the don quixote of lore
finds swords to be quite a bore
but when the dragon comes along
the knight finds he is wrong
and his suit is ruined by gore


01-15-2007, 04:28 PM
Carrots my sweet brown rabbit, craved
Alfalfa just did not hit the spot
He would see orange and he begged,
For the whole damn lot!


01-15-2007, 05:04 PM
roundish but triangular,
scrumptuous and sweet,
people are like that,
almost everyone we meet,
the only daunting thing is,
finding out,
who is real
and who is full of bullsheeet? (LOL, sorry.. I was bored and typed this in 3 seconds..)

Yellow Lions (an imagery poem)

01-16-2007, 03:44 PM
Yellow Lions/Lines

Today I saw yellow lions walking yellow lines—
Or was it yellow lines on yellow lions?
Oh, dear. I really must recall exactly the times,
And the places where I saw those lions? Lines?
Well, I know it was when the nice State Trooper asked,
If I’d mind stepping out of my nice new car.
It seemed to be a decent enough request, I guess—
I had just left the Blue Dragon bar.
He was the one who pointed at those yellow lions,
And told me to walk just like one of them.
Yeah, that’s it! ‘Cause I told him those two lines
Weren’t moving much. As any fool could see ‘em!
Well those yellow lions up and walked away, far as I can tell:
But I swear I still see yellow lines, right here in this jail cell!

© 1/16/07

Red Birds in snow

01-16-2007, 04:14 PM
red birds in snow:

nearly lost amid the tumbling flakes
they sing out stridently
reminding everyone one awake
of winters' great beauty.

Rarely seen in these parts
during the rest of the year,
their cheery song warms the hearts
of all who stop to hear.

awwww, isn't it cute? :blush:

sledding in fresh snow (yay days off from school!!)

01-16-2007, 07:56 PM
Nice Job (Pendragon)

Slicing and meandering steel
in a vast expanse of white,
riders energized with zeal,
though those jagged impediments can cause a fright!

remembering those days with you
at recess when the obstreperous bell rung us out
memories embedded in the snow,
are with us even when it's long melted and gone.

Next: Drinking hot cocoa in a log cabin by a fire.

01-18-2007, 03:06 PM
ensorcelled by dancing tales
of mystical fiery maidens and
dragon slaying shimmery men
life’s roll pauses,
rapture of warmed leather,
the resonant purr of the cat

velvet cream of sugared sustenance
keeps me following the flame's play
as the rest of me drifts
certain of my wooden shelter’s
competent protection from
coyotes howling
at the iced vanilla moon.

going home after a long absence

01-18-2007, 05:40 PM

I couldn’t say how long it’s been, but that doorway sure looks swell,
On the small white house with green tin roof, on the block down by the river.
I’ve traveled halfway round the world, by hidden forest trail,
Through dessert hot and jungles lush; icy winds that made me shiver.
The adventures I have had would fill a book, maybe some day they will,
I can tell them to my grandchildren, in the evening by the fire.
But all the sights and all the sounds, though they live within me still—
Could not stop me from returning here, the one place where I desire.
I just stand and stare at that front door, that black mailbox at its side;
The grey front porch with its old porch swing, hanging in the air.
I raise a hand a moment, then I let it fall slack to my side—
For although I see this door so plain in front if me, I know it isn’t there.
You see the flood come through here in ’77 and it washed the old house away,
The only thing that I can come and visit is an empty lot, and memories that won’t go away…

© 1/18/07

A hairy spider crawling on your skin

01-21-2007, 05:13 PM
There are chills down my back , Why is it? Could it a monster crawling on back. It hairy legs come like a shot does to a sick child . What did we do to this creature why is giving such toture to me. Spiders do not scare unless they brought the package of your past. Next: Lost children looking for people to love them

01-21-2007, 05:27 PM
For them it is just a game
What is a little child without a father?
What is a little child without a mother?
An Orphan? A victim?
Perhaps something different,
Something with potential.
Something to be moulded
Into a deadly assassin.
The master loves his pupils
When they kill their marks.
The children think it is just a game.
A game when it is won,
Will earn them the love of their master.

Next: People looking for silence.

Il Penseroso
03-02-2007, 05:53 PM
They scan the coast
and find no solace
in the rolls of crashing waves,
the chatter of birds
to them lacks music,
they search for feeling
where the rhythm
is a remembered song.

A smokey den filled with blues.

03-02-2007, 06:58 PM
In A smoky den filled with blues.
Sits a lonely man with an unseen bruise.
The dense air swirls around.
The music plays with a canorous sound.
His countenance shows that he is deep in thought.
Searching for the reason he is so distraught.
Why does he feel alone in life?
The solitude pierces him like a knife.
He sits and wonders if he will always be alone.
The answer to this question is still unknown.

New Topic: Search for Knowledge

03-03-2007, 12:59 AM
The Search

As I was searching for the truth
In many strange and mystic places,
I ran into Diogenes,
Whom as you may recall,
Was in search of an honest man.
He raised his staff in greeting as we passed...
We are both still searching...